


Foxborough Christmas

by queenmab_scherzo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Implied M/M/M, M/M, a surprise present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmab_scherzo/pseuds/queenmab_scherzo
Summary: A surprise for Isaiah.





	Foxborough Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisainthesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisainthesky/gifts).



_December 25, 2017_

 

Isaiah’s driveway is about a mile long but Bucky’s not annoyed at this point considering they just flew something like 4 hours and he knows what’s waiting at the finish line. 

“Where do we park?”

“He won’t care.”

“Just leave it outside, I guess?” Steve cranes his neck to see the sky through the windshield. “What if it snows?”

“He won’t care,” Bucky repeats.

Steve kills the engine near the top of the long u-turn drive and they unload themselves from the car. They didn’t bring much luggage. Suburban Boston isn’t a third world country or anything. And it’s only a couple days, since Bucky has a bowl game and they don’t exactly plan on leaving the house much. Or Bucky doesn’t, anyway.

Bucky opens the back door to grab his duffel bag. Slower, more hesitant, Steve does the same. “Do we bring luggage now?” he asks. “Or should we grab it later?”

“He won’t care.” Bucky shuts the door and slings his own bag over his shoulder and gives Steve a  _look_.

“You really want your hands full now?”

“Steve.” 

“Showing up on the doorstep with luggage? That’s kind of presumptuous isn’t it?”

“He really, really won’t care.”

Steve rocks back on his heels. Then grabs his bag, too.

“Do we ring the doorbell?”

“Probably should.”

“Should we text him first?”

“That kinda defeats the purpose of the surprise.”

Steve clutches the strap on his bag; his hand hovers over the doorbell.

"You do cheeseball shit like this every year," Bucky points out. "You shy, now?"

Red-faced, Steve pointedly avoids Bucky's gaze. He punches the doorbell. They wait a good three minutes, which feels like about three days, before Steve rings it a second time. Another minute before they hear the click-chunk of a couple big deadbolts. Bucky clenches his jaw. While they stand there, awkward and shivering, the door eases open.

The doorway is so huge it makes even Isaiah Bradley look small.

 Small and frozen still, lit by glowing gold light from behind. Bucky's eyes have to adjust before he can make out all the details. Ice is wearing heather-gray sweatpants, a sleek New England hoodie, and a dumbfounded look on his face. He's got a scarf wrapped around his ears, his hair piled into a careless tumbleweed on top of his head. And he has on these big hipster glasses.

Bucky swallows.

They all stand around staring for another three days, maybe, Isaiah’s mouth hanging open like a cartoon.

Isaiah shifts from one foot to the other and back. "What?"

"Hey, Ice," Bucky says.

"But y'all in Chicago," Isaiah croaks.

"Yeah," Bucky says.

Steve grins. "Until about six-thirty this morning."

Isaiah's hand drifts to the bottom of his sweatshirt and he tugs it absently. "What?" His eyes shine bright as they move restlessly between Steve, Bucky, their bags, the car, the empty space over their shoulder.

Bucky takes a shaky breath. "Hair's kinda faded," he says, and he can feel his mouth quirk.

Finally, finally, Isaiah breaks into a toothy grin. He covers his mouth with one fist as soon as it happens, then pulls it away, toys with his hair, presses his lips together. "It's a long season," he says, smiling at his socked feet.

"Really long," Steve says, soft and sappy the way he is when he means something he's not saying.

Isaiah reaches for Bucky, and Bucky goes. Now he’s regretting the duffel bag, but they figure it out, hands threading where they fit. Ice wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck and Bucky pulls him in by the waist. He can feel Ice’s muscles spasm and clench and unclench, his fingers twitching in Bucky’s hair, tense and tender at the same time. Bucky huffs a laugh in the crook of Isaiah’s neck. He smells spicy and warm.

”We figured since your mom flew back for the Big Bradley Bash in Moline and all that...” Steve drifts off. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Ice agrees. he pulls back just enough to press his forehead against Bucky’s. From this close, Bucky can see the brightness on his eyelashes, even through the glasses lens; and he can see how hard Ice is biting his lip. He can see the little white line bloom under his teeth.

”We didn’t want you to be alone,” Bucky says.

”Can I kiss you?” Ice breathes. It tumbles out like snowspray and Isaiah squeezes his eyes shut as soon as he says it. His hands slide down Bucky’s shoulders to clutch his arms. He laughs, but it’s really just a hiss of cold air. He flinches and glances at Steve. “Can I kiss him?” He winces again. (Steve raises both hands in a show of innocence.) “Sorry. I mean.” Isaiah exhales through his teeth. His fingertips tremble little bruises into Bucky’s biceps.

”Yes,” Bucky whispers.

Isaiah is so wound up Bucky can feel little jolts like electricity in his hands and his elbows and his limbs, one of them is about to shatter from the strain, but then Ice tilts his head and kisses Bucky and it’s turning up to face summer rain. That’s all. It’s soft, the softest thing, and Isaiah is so gentle; the gentlest thing.

Bucky smiles into the kiss and Isaiah pulls away to laugh. It sounds like he can’t believe it, which is fair since Bucky can’t either. That feeling like hands are all over his body and under his skin even though Ice only got two hands to work with and Bucky knows right where they are.

Ice lets out a shaky breath and tilts his head a little; his forehead rolls against Buckys, still touching, but he looks over at Steve.

”Don’t ask,” Steve says. “Don’t you dare ask.”

Ice doesn’t ask. Just crosses to Steve and kisses him, too. That one makes Bucky shake just as hard. He can see all the electricity there. Ice sure doesn’t _look_ as gentle as he was before. And Steve. Looks like Steve. Lips red, neck red, hands spread. Holy—

Isaiah gasps and grins again like he can’t help it. “What?” he whispers, shaking his head. 

“We missed you,” Steve whispers back.

”God,” Isaiah says. “oh my god, come inside, shit, y’all, come inside. Sorry, shit, it’s freezing.”

”I’m not cold,” Bucky says.

But they do come inside, and they drop their bags near the door, and as they travel to the back of the house it gradually looks less like a mansion and more like a home. There’s the foyer, and a room with a piano, and a room with a dining table that can’t ever have been used, and then they reach a living room. Giant sectional couch, cushy armchair, surround sound, bookshelf, dog bed. Monday football is on TV with low volume. Four poor teams got stuck playing on Christmas day this year, but everyone else finished up on Sunday.

”So glad I got over with yesterday,” Isaiah mutters, reading Bucky’s thoughts.

”Steve too,” Bucky says. He winds his arms around Ice’s waist again. “So we can see you.”

”Y’all terrible,” Ice mumbles, but he also smiles and noses against Bucky’s ear.

Steve appears over Isaiah’s shoulder, and Bucky can feel his warm broad chest as he curls around behind Ice.

”The long distance thing is getting really old really fast,” Steve says.

Isaiah looks down to fiddle with the zipper on Bucky’s sweatshirt and a loose dreadlock tickles Bucky’s nose.

”This a thing?” Isaiah croaks.

”If you want,” Bucky says, keeping his voice low.

Ice bites his lip again. The only sound in the room is a tinkly christmas commercial on TV and the zzzt-zzzt of Bucky’s zipper while Ice messes with it.

”You want?” Steve asks gently.

Zzzt-zzzt.

Ice straightens his glasses and smiles at the zipper.

”Yeah,” he says.

Confetti bursts in Bucky’s chest. Steve, predictably, gets even more handsy. Bucky can’t see very well but he thinks Steve is kissing somewhere behind Isaiah’s ear and he can definitely feel it when Ice’s whole body shudders between them.

Bucky rolls his eyes, and they land on the fat red Kong pillow in the corner. ”Can I meet your dog?”

“Sure,” Ice smirks. “Bucky, this is Steve. Steve, Bucky.”

Beat.

”Oh, you did not—“ Steve leans back, mortified.

Isaiah laughs so fucking hard he loses his balance, which makes Bucky start cackling, too. They tumble on top of each other onto the couch.

”You’re both the worst,” Steve grumps.

”We can’t both be the worst,” Ice points out, and wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and buries his smile in Bucky’s shoulder.

”Yeah Steve,” Bucky agrees. “You’re only saying that because you’re the worst.”

Bucky can feel Ice underneath him, still shaking with laughter. “Hey,” Bucky says. He reaches around to pat Ice’s hair. “Merry Christmas.”

”Didn’t get you nothing.”

”Yeah, you did.”

Bucky can feel Isaiah’s nose press between his shoulder blades.

**Author's Note:**

> you KNOW those plane tickets were in steve’s pocket that morning.
> 
> this is for ciela, who had a stupid christmas. but it’s also for all of us. here’s to more love and less loneliness in 2018.


End file.
